Clash of Beloved
by sweepingly
Summary: Their mutual hatred is becoming unbearable, and Nisei's determined to break him, no matter what. This fic alludes to sex between two men. If it offends you, don't read.


"_You_." Soubi, blinding in his hatred, was poised to attack the moment their eyes met. Nisei's smile was too pitying to mock, but it was more an expression of his satisfaction than an affable gesture. There was fun to be had, his smile said, because the things Nisei was forbidden to touch – this one, beloved's brother – often proved to be the most entertaining. He approached, pausing only when he felt he'd outstayed his welcome to the point of being provocative, and his demeanor was easy, confident.

Soubi hated Nisei.

Nisei with the disarming eyes that shocked _green _and stared into his being as if his body was transparent; Nisei with the caustic charm and the liar's smile. Everything about the Beloved fighter repulsed Soubi – really, he'd expected Nisei to behave more like him: submissive, obedient, _quiet_. Seimei always had valued those characteristics. However, the sacrifice was nowhere to be seen; he and Nisei were alone in the alley that trailed behind Ritsuka's block, with only garbage bins and the occasional cat for company.

Nisei was standing close – too close – an arm bent snakelike against the wall as he regarded Soubi with a smirk. "_Beloved_ wanted me to greet you on his behalf; he has much more important things to attend to." His eyes were wide with mischief, with the thrill of causing the wince Soubi vainly attempted to mask at the sound of the name.

The cigarette resting between Soubi's lips quivered, flicking ash onto his collar. He moved to brush it away, fingers deftly sweeping – mastery in his every movement; a painter's hands – and barely tracing the thin white bandages looped around his neck as the ash fluttered silently to meet concrete. _Beloved_. Soubi both missed and feared his former sacrifice; there had been something almost comforting about the (mistaken) knowledge of his death – until, of course, Nisei had appeared with a cellphone and repaid Soubi's bruises with the rich sound of Seimei's voice, alive and well.

Nisei knew – the subsequent flick of his hair and waggling of fingers were intended to mock Soubi. The letters on his left hand danced with the movements, a wiggling congo train of black that Soubi wanted nothing more than to remove, by any means necessary. Not that he had any right – it wasn't his name; the word around his neck could be cast off, eventually, and then he'd have no claim to Seimei at all. But the name did not belong to Nisei either; the words, the meaning and the twisted elegance of the sound all belonged to one person.

_I'm not your sacrifice. You're my fighter._

_He_ was Beloved; they were simply tools. Disposable.

And Soubi _hated _Nisei with a passion he rarely felt. His smiles tasted like death in Soubi's mouth, like blind hatred and - the sweetest, most agonizing taste of all - like Seimei. A hot, cruel mouth brushed Soubi's fingertips, mockingly gentle, before drawing a reluctant gasp from his lips as teeth raked down to the knuckle of his middle finger. Nisei chuckled, exhaled air ghosting over the hand he clutched in his.

This was the perfect victory. Nisei had weakened his victim with caustic words and a blankly cheerful expression - "you're not _needed_" - and really, it had been too easy. Take aim, make sure to hit where it hurts and Soubi would bend to even _his_ will - even _Nisei's_.

The concrete was hard against Nisei's back as he slid boneless to the ground, his right knee catching and supporting him as he let his tongue flick out, tracing the edge of Soubi's fingernail and wrinkling his nose as the acrid taste of paint hit his taste buds, along with something less distinct: nicotine. Disgusting. Repulsed, Nisei pulled away and raised his head to gaze at the other Beloved fighter. Soubi was standing rigid, an elbow resting uncomfortably on the wall, and panting slightly, though his lips were barely open and his expression remained defiant.

"Such filthy habits." Nisei smirked, jumping to his feet in the half-light of the alleyway and pushing against Soubi bodily, cutting off any pre-empted escape attempts. Something in Soubi's eyes flickered, a spark of hate - or was it defeat? - but otherwise, he remained as he was. Slowly, teasingly, Nisei slipped downward to remove Soubi's clothing.

They moved together with raw violence: Soubi stoic and silent but tugging harshly at the other fighter's hair and gritting his teeth to suppress a hiss of pain, Nisei all sadistic smiles and focused eyes - an aura of intent that only revealed itself during battle. But a battle this was, and with every thrust one or both of them grunted, "I'll kill you, I'll kill you."

_His_ orders prevented it, but they'd always find other ways to fight, to destroy each other piece by precious piece.


End file.
